Tongue Tied
by the.clairvoyance
Summary: Often times we just can't find the right words. Hotch/Emily.
1. Chapter 1

**Tongue Tied**

**Disclaimer: **I am currently waiting for Hell to freeze over. (-_-)

**Pairing: **Hotch/Prentiss, HP.

**Genres: **Humour/Romance.

**Rating: **14 Advanced: due to minor language and suggestive themes.

**Spoilers: **Post season five.

**Summary: **Often times we just can't find the right words.

**Dedication: **In memory of all the embarrassing slip-ups I continue to emit at the worst possible times.

**Author's Comment: **So yeah, here we go again, yet another dose of one shot-y goodness for your entertainment although _this_ time, it involves a minimal amount of smuttiness. How unfortunate, I understand.

* * *

**Chapter I. Pretty Persuasion**

_"I have with me two Gods: Persuasion and Compulsion."_

_~ Themistocles_

* * *

"No way, Reid." I repeat myself for what feels like the hundredth time this morning. "I'm sorry but I just can't."

The young genius looks crestfallen, which, if it wasn't such an amusing expression on Reid, I would have felt guilty for.

"But Emily it's only in town _this_ weekend," he tries again in vain, not willing to give up so easily it seems. "And you said yourself that you would go with me!"

Oy, I _did _say that didn't I? Although, in fairness, I made that promise _weeks _ago, as in _before _Reid had been able to find out the dates and times; I really hadn't thought that the time that the one weekend I made plans for was the single weekend that the book signing would be on. You see the team and I had been coming back home from a recent case and I noticed some new book that Reid was zipping right through, a book that I had recently wrapped up myself. Naturally I had asked Reid how he was enjoying the book, which was a big mistake might I add, since it ended up leading to a discussion on statistics where I mostly sat there and wondered just how Reid's brain doesn't explode from containing that much information.

_Anyway_, Reid had professed to really enjoying the entire series of books, something that had pleased the bookworm in me very much so because I was an avid fan of the author too. In fact, I was _so_ pleased that I informed the young genius that I heard a rumor that the author was coming to Virginia for a book signing sometime in the upcoming month and that we should go, heck, we could make a whole afternoon out of it! I realize now that was probably the first sign that something was going to go haywire. Not that I don't love Reid, because I definitely do, I just don't think that anyone can handle so much...Reid-ness, especially for a whole afternoon. And I say that with all the love and kindness in the world.

"You know I would go with if I didn't have this brunch with my mother Sunday. You said that it's all weekend so why don't we go Saturday?"

Did I just say "brunch with my mother"?

Funny, I could have _sworn _that I said "with my boyfriend" instead.

Must have been a failure to communicate.

"But I have other plans for Saturday." Reid states, still trying to persuade me with that beaten puppy look he has down pat. I can feel myself caving to it, damn that floppy hair and those boyish brown eyes; it isn't fair, damn it!

Across the bullpen, Morgan swivels around in his chair and looks about as surprised as I'm sure I did when I heard Reid say he had other plans.

"Comic-Con, Reid?" He asks half-sarcastically whilst tossing his foam football at me. I catch it with my left hand, my other one preoccupied with my mug of coffee. "Nice one, Princess."

I roll my eyes, chuck it back to him and take a nice, long sip from my delicious, delicious coffee.

"Actually, Virginia's Comic-Con is in August," the prodigy SSA points out as he clicks on to what looks like a website detailing the event. From where I'm sitting I can see comic drawings of famous characters as well as pictures of fans dressed head to toe in costume. Now I finally understand why JJ had refused to attend with Reid, it didn't really look like my—or anyone on this team, with the obvious exception of Reid—scene.

"So what are you plans then Reid?" Our dark friend asks, throwing the football up in the air and catching it with the opposite hand, his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his chair and practically rocking on the hind legs. "Trekkie convention, Mensa meeting, or curing cancer?"

A short spiel about cancer research follows and I want to pity Morgan—I really do—but he walked right into that one and now he's living to regret it. Laughing under my breath, apparently loud enough to be heard though, I manage to _just_ dodge the foam football that is spiraling towards my head and then catch it before it hits the ground. I look up to see that Reid is now distracted from trying to coerce me into attending the book signing with his one-sided conversation with Morgan and sneak a peek up the stairs that lead to my boss' office. Through the blinds I can see the profile of Hotch who is currently bent over his desk, which is, without a doubt, covered with a mess of case files and paperwork. Now if it were up to me then he wouldn't be spending so much time in that office, mulling over crime scene photos and profiles from decades ago but I know that it is a part of him just as much as the casual side and that he can't have one without the other.

Shit!

I've been made.

Oh great, he's smiling that stupidly sweet dimpled smile of his.

_Busted._

Fabulous, now I have to bite back my own.

Stupid, super cute Hotch is using those damn dimples against me.

"Come on, Emily," Reid starts up again succeeding in stealing my attention away from our boss. "Your mother is a reasonable woman so she would understand if you called to reschedule."

Of course by this point Reid is fully aware of the fact that I'm not bending—I rather pride my ability to say "no"—but I guess he figures "no harm, no foul" and is trying his luck anyway. The thing is that if I actually _were_ to be having brunch with my mother I most likely _would_ try to reschedule for Reid, _however,_ the fact of the matter is that I'm _not_ going to brunch, spending the afternoon in a gorgeously posh home, and reminiscing while trying to keep up that whole "no serious talk about the job" deal mother and I made a while back. Instead I am going to be spending a whole glorious Sunday sleeping in, making breakfast, hitting the town, and barbequing in the backyard. No way am I going to take a rain check.

"I'm sorry but I'll make it up to you."

I'm not quite certain how but I'll find a way, probably by inserting my foot in my mouth.

"Hey, didn't you say that Comic-Con is in August?"

Foot meet my big fat mouth, big fat mouth meet my foot.

"You'll go with me?" An expression of child-like excitement takes over Reid's face and I can't let him down twice in the time span of ten minutes because that would just crush him so I face the music, nod and pretend to smile. It seems to have worked since Reid is glowing and Morgan is cracking up. I shoot him a murderous glare and take an extra long slurp from my coffee, needing the fuel.

"What are your plans for Saturday, anyway?" I hear Morgan ask, his voice curious. He's almost as awful a gossip as Garcia and Rossi. "You never did say."

I guess I'm a little interested too, seeing as it is keeping me from attending the book signing as well, so I sit up and listen to Reid awkwardly stumble on his answer. He seems kind of odd with this line of questioning which isn't really common for Reid unless the subject is personal, in which case he can be reduced to a word jumbling mess.

"Well, uhm, I have, I mean I'm going—"

I'm sure it's bad to think that Reid is adorable stumbling all over his words but I don't really care, after all it's such a sweet look on him.

"Spit it out, Kid." Morgan presses, the universal way of encouraging someone who's faltering to get his or her point across.

I don't think Reid has caught on to that yet since he looks more frustrated. Poor thing.

"I'm going to an art exhibit."

That was it?

"Do you even _like_ art?"

I only ask because it seems so un-Reid of him, seeing how art is something that is always up for interpretation and Reid is a very black or white, lives for the facts, scientist kind of guy. Sure, it's cultural and historic and would probably be rather interesting for Reid's brilliant mind to dissect but I still find it hard to believe that Reid would spend his free time at some art expo.

"Visual arts are actually—"

Blah blah blah "_originally people thought"_ blah blah blah blah blah "_there are theories that"_ blah blah blah blah "_it has been noted"_ blah blah blah blah blah blah.

A new voice enters the conversation and I blink back to life, shaking off my blanking out with a slurp of coffee and a thoughtful expression in Morgan's direction as the aforementioned man asks; "so are you going with someone?"

"Yes."

_Back it up!_

An instant bolt of who-what-where-when-why shocks my spine because I can't help but be happy that Reid is reaching out of our little BAU family and into the world, you know, the one that doesn't have homicide, rape, and arson on the mind 24/7. This is wonderful news.

"Wait a minute," Morgan states, acting as if this is more shocking than what I originally thought. "You mean like a _date?_"

"I guess you could consider it that."

Leave it to Reid to sound so indifferent, as if it is an everyday occurrence, and still be confused when Derek chokes on his coffee in surprise.

"With a _female?_"

I watch in amusement as Derek wipes his mouth and Reid wears an expression between confused and affronted, like him seeing a woman—who isn't a friend—outside of the work realm is _that_ unrealistic.

"Her name is Evangeline, which is Greek in origin and means 'good news' or 'bearer of good news'." Reid offers, believing that Morgan actually needs proof. "But she likes being called Evan for short."

Distracting myself from the conversation I dash my signature across the bottom of a file on my desk, flip the pages randomly, cursive write my name again and then shut the folder purposefully. I sigh and mumble "finally", rub the back of my neck and drop my pen deliberately.

"Tired there, Prentiss?" Morgan queries, recovering from his shock.

"Exhausted," I lie blatantly and get away with it too. "Have I ever told you guys how much I _hate _paperwork?"

Morgan lifts his mug in mock cheer and exclaims "hallelujah" as I grin, shake my head, and head up the stairs that will take me to my boss' office.

* * *

The door clicks shut behind me when I use the back of my heel to close it.

He looks up from his multiple case folders, his ever-present poker face in place, and I fight the urge to smile like a maniac.

"Can I do anything for you, Agent Prentiss?"

I crack. I can feel it. I'm smiling, Goddamnit.

"Yes," I reply playfully whilst sliding the folder I brought with me across his desk. "Look over this for me, please. I'd like a consult on this case."

Then, just like I planned, I spin on a heel and get the Hell out of his office, leaving him stunned behind me.

* * *

One of the many important factors of being in a position of authority is having the ability of knowing how to speak to people.

Of course that depends entirely on _who_ you are speaking to, the _subject _that you are talking about, the _environment_ in which the conversation is happening, as well as being educated in your discussion. Fortunately for me, I had been a lawyer it what I like to consider a past life and an important part of being a lawyer involved convincing, debating, explaining and persuading people such as clients, judges, fellow lawyers, as well as jurors. This is one of the reasons why I well in my field, because I know what I want and how to talk people into giving it to me. It is a skill that constantly finds purpose, used during scenarios ranging from negotiations involving Unsubs that are holding hostages to business meetings with unimpressed superiors; even stemming into more personal situations like when I need to get out of going somewhere that I don't want to go or bargaining with my son Jack.

Unfortunately, no one had prepared me for the likes of one Emily Prentiss.

Suddenly my knack for talking people in and out of situations paled in comparison to Emily's native tongue of politics, something that she had picked up from her long lost childhood. It never ceases to amaze me just how well Emily can turn argumentative into a superpower, making her capable of talking just about anyone into the palm of her hand whilst remaining totally immune to my own persuasion and if I weren't a bigger man than that, I may have been upset over the fact that she is impervious to my influence. That is, until, I experience a moment of dawning realization. Ah! It's just so _simple _that I can't help but wonder why I hadn't noticed it all along. I chastise myself, amused by my obliviousness, as I tuck my brand new tactic up my sleeve, patiently waiting a chance to put into play. And everyone thinks that Reid is the genius of the team? Okay, so I can't read War & Peace in one sitting, I don't have an eidetic memory, and I wasn't a twelve year old freshman but this is sheer brilliance if I dare say so myself and I am going to have _fun_ with it.

There is a bright yellow sticky note stuck to the inside of the folder flap and somehow I manage to repress a smile.

_Take the long way._

How can I refuse a proposition like that?

Folding and tucking her note in the breast pocket of my suit, I do a double take of my watch and decide to wait a few minutes despite my excitement. Oh yeah, is she ever going to be surprised.

* * *

**Author's Note:** First chapter in this mini multi-chapter story is complete! Be on the look out for upcoming stuff :D.

With Love, CSIAly


	2. Chapter 2

**Tongue Tied**

**Disclaimer: **I am currently waiting for Hell to freeze over. (-_-)

**Pairing: **Hotch/Prentiss, HP.

**Genres: **Humour/Romance.

**Rating: **14 Advanced: due to minor language and suggestive themes.

**Spoilers: **Post season five.

**Summary: **Often times we just can't find the right words.

**Dedication: **For the boy who left me, a girl who never knows when or how to shut up, without words.

**Author's Comment: **Originally this was a one-shot but I felt that it was too long for it to be condensed into a single chapter so here we are; a second chapter.

* * *

**Chapter II. Verbal Validation**

_"__When a heart is on fire, sparks always fly out of the mouth."_

_~ Proverb_

_

* * *

_

I see her legs first, long and toned, something that she doesn't get to show off often when she wears pants.

Today she is wearing a skirt so I _really_ should have seen this coming.

"Agent Hotchner," she introduces sounding all business despite the saucy smile that she is trying to hide. "You certainly took your sweet time."

"Didn't want to raise any suspicion among the team, agent." I reply, playing along with Emily's little game. "Now what was it that you wanted to consult?"

Please, God, can it be _me?_

She steps towards me, her legs looking like they go on forever when she wears those four inch heels, the ones that I constantly worry will give her skeletal problems but are nonetheless sexy as Hell on her. When Haley had worn heels she did it subconsciously; this meant that she had an outfit on that made her feel sexy and if she had the outfit than she definitely had the lingerie to match. Yes, I _did_ notice these things during our marriage. My late wife must have been a closeted obsessive compulsive because she had always colour coordinated _everything_, including her shoes to her outfit to her underwear and I had grown quite fond of being able to tell if I'd be shredding red or black or pink lingerie apart just by seeing what colour her blouse was that day. Emily, I have learned, is a _little _less predictable.

"I was wondering if I could get a sneak peek on this weekend?"

Oh I could do _better _than that if only our current location wasn't an abandoned hallway of the BAU, stupid fraternization rules. I settle on kissing her.

For now.

My hands find in her hips, hers clasp to the back of my neck, and I can feel her heartbeat through the new shirt she's wearing. It starts out slower, not the mad dash to get each other as naked as quickly as possible. _But then, _I realize, _that could be attributed to the fact we're at work and at any moment someone could walk in on us._ Yeah, I can just picture how well that whole scenario would play out:

_All right Prentiss,_ I can see myself trying to cover up quickly. _You're definitely going to need to get that filling replaced._

_Hmm-mm, that could work, _I think sarcastically. _It has got rather a nice ring to it, don't you think?_

So maybe it's a little high school of me to be feeling this way but I can't help the random surges of arousal and adrenaline that Emily sets off in me. Instantly I flashback to my first girlfriend, who was a fellow freshman at the time, and I had asked out awkwardly in the school library one afternoon. Maya hadn't been blatantly beautiful but when one combined her physical appearance her confidence, wit and charm, as well as her fitted V-necks she was absolutely irresistible. In my aging mind, I can see Maya staring into my eyes from across the kitchen counter as I made us hot chocolate one winter day after school, she had only smiled a little and I knew was too far gone to do anything but kiss her. Emily is sort of the same way, in the sense that I feel like my life couldn't possibly get any better than this moment, something that I know I can never admit to aloud.

_Whoa!_ Hold the phone!

Was that some tongue?

Yes, yes it was Aaron.

Oh dear sweet Jesus, this woman is going to be the death of me.

See what I mean? Total high school behavior and I blame Prentiss for it, the sneaky little wench.

Not exactly _thinking_ at the moment and can you really blame me? I slide my hand under her shirt and massage her back, feeling all sorts of approval from Emily, including her dragging me deeper into the kiss and closer to the wall. Pinned to a wall. Who knew how absolutely hot that was? I'm sure I did a million years ago but there was something about having a heaving, hungry, Hell-cat Emily Prentiss between me and a wall that makes the attraction skyrocket. Blindly, I manage to find the clasp of her bra, which I begin to unhook when she suddenly decides to slow down. _Torture,_ this woman is pure _torture_.

"We can't, Hotch." She gasps in my ear and all I want to do is prove her wrong. "We're at work."

"We're also making out at work," I point out as I draw circles on her lower back. "Any qualms about that?"

I know, deep down, that making out isn't quite the same as having sex, the ladder being much more punishable if found out about. However I don't seem to pay much mind to rules and regulations when it comes to feeling lace beneath Emily's tank top; besides is it really _that _bad if I leave her shirt on? It seems as if Emily is a bit apprehensive about this and I can feel the lawyer inside of me coming back to life, not ready to let a good opportunity be passed by.

"None at all." There is something about the fact that she breathed each one of those words individually that blows my mind. "But you know how bad I am at knowing when to stop."

So you see my point?

"How can I convince you?" I recapture her lips, place one hand on her lower back and massage the back of her neck with the other. Moaning, horny and helpless, Emily tangles a hand in my hair whilst slipping her free one up and down my chest. Dear God, I just may explode. Oh well, it would be one Hell of a COD, kissing Emily Prentiss. Actually, the more I think about it, I'm beginning to conclude that she wouldn't be charged with manslaughter but instead of murder in the first degree. I bet she planned it, _everything _that is. The part where we decided to throw our feelings at each other to see which ones stuck, the aftermath revolving lots of kissing and an awkward first date, even the moment where I bent her over her car door and gave her a hickey, one that she had reciprocated. Yes, it's all so clear now; Emily Prentiss wants me dead and she knows just how to do it. Not with a Glock 19 or some badass ninja-esque move that she whips out on the occasional Unsub. Nope, just the good ol' seduction trick. How could I have been so blind?

Her breasts nestle closer and I can feel her body temperature rising as she whispers "you win" against the shell of my ear.

Apparently _that's_ how.

* * *

Curse you: stupid, seductive, sexy, sadistic boyfriend.

Hotch is cruel and unusual, mostly because it is completely out of character for him to be seconds away from nailing me against a wall in such a public area; doesn't he know what he does to me? _Oh of course he knows, _my brain scoffs at my mental plea. _Why do you think he does it?_ Get it now? I swear it's the truth; Aaron Hotchner _gets off_ watching me struggle to remain calm in his presence, especially when it is his presence only and there is no one else around to keep me in line. What a teasing, taunting, tantalizing bastard; what have I done to deserve this delicious form of punishment? I hope he tells me if only so I can do it again and as I can.

"You win," is pretty much all I can say at this point since I am just about completely breathless and uninhibited, not to mention in direr need of_ harder, faster, more!_

Channeling his extrasensory perception, Hotch knows just how to touch me as he molds my now bare breasts, having already done away with my bra. Where is that thing anyway? I think I saw him put it in the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket, a smarter move than flinging it off in a random direction or just dropping it to the floor for anyone to spot. Sighing, I melt against him and let his caresses take me away, my mouth working on autopilot as I try to stay in control of myself. Unfortunately for me and very fortunately for Hotch, we both know that I'm not very good at it.

"You're too good at this." I stroke his ego because it's better than if I let my hormones get ahead of me and I end up stroking other desirable parts of him.

"At what?" He mumbles against my collarbone, having the nerve to ask despite the fact that he is knows exactly what I meant the first time that I said it. Being the loving girlfriend that I am I decide to humour him.

"Persuading me." It's sad but true; my willpower is practically non-existent when it comes to copulating with Hotch, the manipulating S-O-B.

He marks me with a hickey beneath each of my breasts and there is very little I can do to resist him. When he's done he runs his hands down to my ass and explores. I should be annoyed, shouldn't I? After all I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of people unable to say "no" and yet that's all I've been doing for the last ten or so minutes. Lifting his head from my cleavage, Hotch looks at me with those twinkling brown eyes that I refuse to get lost in, not this time anyway. He sports a movie star smile and no matter what any fairytale, cliche, or cheesy pop song says I am not going to become weak in the knees._Honestly._

"What can I say?" He teases, retrieving my bra from his suit jacket and handing it back to me. "You're easy."

I must look as affronted as I think because he is too amused for me not to be. He leans down to my ear and kisses it, as if that will make everything better and I must admit that, in this moment, it kind of does.

"Which is only one of the _many_ things that I love about you."

And of all the times for me to lose my voice it is when Aaron Hotchner is professing his love for me for the first time vocally.

_Perfect._

_

* * *

_

A speechless Prentiss makes for a very humored me, not that I take pleasure in her pain or anything, it's just so uncharacteristic of the woman with an opinion on just about _everything._

"The silent treatment?" I'm being deliberately mean, I know, but it's just too much fun when she's wearing that shell-shocked expression and is left immobile. I like that I can that kind of effect on her, I just pray to the Lord Almighty that it is a good kind of surprise to her and that she's pleased that I let her in on this little tidbit. Loving her, that is. "Really, Em? You'd think that after five months together it was long overdue."

Five months_. Wow_. And I thought I'd be out of practice but I guess Emily had seen some potential in me. Thank _God._

"Is that a new technique to get me to take of my panties next?" Ah, she's got her ability of speech back. "Because it's not going to work."

I look stern, serious, and somber if only because I'm afraid if I speak I'll find some way of screwing this up. Emily sighs, shakes her head, rests it on my shoulder and tugs at the lapels of my jacket. This silence is doing nothing to comfort my nerves.

"I just-" she begins and then restarts. "You know-" again she pauses and I'm left to wonder if she's broken. "This is-"

Is this some sort of twisted revenge, a weird type of payback for me almost taking her in the middle of a hallway? I don't think that I can handle waiting for her to articulate whatever is that she wants to say; I'm okay with being selfish and impatient so long as I get an answer, any answer will do.

"This moment," she finally summons up the ability to speak clearly and looks me right in the eye, seeming just a little bit disappointed, something that I won't admit worries me. "Was supposed to be a _lot_ smoother."

Emily laughs shortly to herself, not letting go of my lapels, feeling embarrassed.

"I think I like this version more." I inform her while tucking some hair away and kissing her temple. "I love you, Emily Prentiss."

"Oh enough of the sweet talk, Hotch." She jokes, smiling again, this time kissing me quickly. "I love you but you already knew that."

Smirking, I reply with an overly smug; "well yeah, but it's nice to hear it too."

She shuts me up with a kiss and suddenly the silent treatment doesn't seem all that bad.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The best "I love you" is impromptu and ordinary, spoken on an every day occasion and from the heart.

All My Love,

CSIAly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Tongue Tied**

**Disclaimer: **I am currently waiting for Hell to freeze over. (-_-)

**Pairing: **Hotch/Prentiss, HP.

**Genres: **Humour/Romance.

**Rating: **14 Advanced: due to minor language and suggestive themes.

**Spoilers: **Post season five.

**Summary: **Often times we just can't find the right words.

**Dedication: **To all the people I keep information from, you ought to know that I do it for two reasons: your own good and the fact that you know I'll tell you eventually. Thanks for being so damn trustworthy.

**Author's Comment: **A third party is introduced! Read on...

* * *

**Chapter III. Close Calls**

"_Tell your friend a lie and if he keeps it secret then tell him the truth."_

_~ Portuguese Proverb_

_

* * *

_

Something is devouring something else's face.

I'm turning the corner into an otherwise vacant hallway when I spot it or rather _them._

At first glance it was just two bodies, meshed together, making hushed noises that I really don't need to hear; thank you very much. But then, upon doing a double check, I cannot deny that I know that tall, handsome, and strong frame as well as that bobbing mess of dark brown hair anywhere. Damn it, if it wasn't so unbelievably amazing I'd be upchucking my breakfast right about now. No offense to the aforementioned couple but I can't really help it that I'm not a supporter of PDA, even though they have no clue that they've got an audience. I want to make my presence known but how can I go about that without making the whole scenario extremely awkward for all the parties involved? Maybe I can sneak back the way I came and they'll never notice that I was here in the first place or I can pretend to be having a noisy conversation with someone and pray to God that they unfasten themselves.

_Oh God!_ I can't help my weird combination of disgust and intrigue. _They're still going at it! Come on guys have a little respect, this is a workplace!_

What do you think would happen if I just walked up, tapped him on the shoulder, and told him that I could see them playing tonsil hockey from across the corridor? No? Didn't think so but it would be worth a shot, perhaps it would even shame the duo into never doing it again, at least in my presence. Not that it would really matter anyway, since I'm likely going to be scarred for life after seeing what I just saw. Good Lord, it's like watching one of those documentaries on animals during mating season. Yep, definitely going to need psychiatric care after an event like this. Oh! I got it! I'll just text Emily and then she'll have to detach herself. I am a genius. Quickly shooting a prayer of thanks to both God and whoever invented the instant messaging function on the cell phone, I click on Emily's name and send her the first thing that comes to mind.

_Hey, Em. Wanna go for lunch?_

I can hear her phone buzzing to life from where I'm standing, just at the corner of the intersecting corridors and in the corner of my eye I can see that she is answering. Success! They part and a sense of relief instantly floods through me; I watch Emily text me back quickly and Hotch straighten up his suit and brush his hair back in place so that it no longer looks like it went through a wind tunnel. My phone is on silent so I don't have to worry about making a sound as Hotch drops a kiss on Em's forehead, a kiss that she reciprocates by pressing one to his chin, in fact the whole scene is so sincere that my nausea has come back full-force. Thankfully for me, Hotch opts to head down the other end of the hallway whilst Emily stands blessed out for a moment, as if recovering from the make-out session she just shared with the BAU version of Fabio. I know that I'll need to take some time to recover as well but for an entirely different reason, starting with cleansing my eyes. I mean I love seeing my friends so happy, so clearly in love, and so-well you know-intense about it but there are some things that I'll never need physical evidence to believe. This is one of those times. Sure, when they come out with whatever their relationship is, I will be overjoyed and excited for them and will needle answers out of Emily about their romantic life but seeing and hearing are two completely different worlds and I'm sticking to the ladder from now on.

Her text message reads: _Yeah, sure. Give me a min._

Oh crap, crap, crap! I need to disappear like _immediately._

"Hey Jayje!" Emily calls with a mixture of surprise and happiness in her tone. "You said something about lunch?"

"Uhm, yeah." I try to cover my fear of being caught walking in on her and Hotch with randomly selected words. "Unless you're not hungry."

_You know coz' you've been spending the past five minutes feasting on our highly esteemed unit chief._

A bizarre expression comes over Emily's face and for a split second I fear for my life that I've spoken aloud. "Why wouldn't I be?"

_Phew, close call._ "No reason," I lie as I hook my arm through hers. "Why don't we hit up that little deli on the corner, hmm? My treat."

"Okay then," she concedes, leading us towards the elevators. "I could go for a bite on your dime."

_Biting seems to be the theme of the day, eh Emily? Yeah, that's right, I didn't miss that very Twilight-esque vampire-sucking going on earlier._

"Awesome, we'll take a long lunch." Anything to keep me from being surrounded by possible gossips that I know I won't be able to resist telling.

Suddenly, surprisingly, Emily seems unsure and I wonder why. "I don't know what Hotch will think of that, Jayje. You know how he is with being on time and productivity."

_Oh my gosh, Emily! Please, please stop already! I don't think that I'll be able keep this to myself if you keep prodding me like this._

_

* * *

_

Lunch is an interesting affair, to say the very least.

I can't help but wonder why JJ is acting so weirdly with that permanent look on her face of someone who had seen a ghost as well as the way she seems to be inspecting me, making me feel as if I'm stuck on the other end of the microscope instead of being the analyzer like usual. JJ still insists on paying so I make it light by only ordering an iced tea and a sandwich, I offer JJ the French fries that come with it and she accepts and is now dunking every third one into her strawberry and vanilla milkshake. For some reason this whole meal seems strange despite the fact that we often eat together both at the office and socially. Maybe it is fact that she keeps sweeping the Deli with her eyes, subconsciously refusing to maintain eye contact with me or whenever she gives me her attention I can practically feel her stare burning through my skin. I want to ask what is going on but I don't want to be too obvious either. It's probably nothing anyway, I'm probably just being paranoid, a result of the job.

"It's seems like forever since we've had lunch together, just the two of us." I start up a conversation as JJ takes a small slurp of her milkshake, something that seems totally un-JJ of her yet, simultaneously, completely in character. "What made you think of going out for lunch anyway? Usually you pack something or we end up ordering in with Garcia."

She dips a rectangular prism of a French fry into her small cup/packet thing of vinegar and takes a bite, shrugging her shoulder in that nonchalant way of hers.

"Guess today is just full of surprises."

Now it may just be my paranoia and I but didn't that last comment sound intentionally like a concurrent joke and accusation?

"Yeah," I agree although I'm not certain to what just yet so I take a bite out of my sandwich to distract myself. "Enjoying your lunch?"

Humming an _mm-hmm,_ JJ brushes some blonde hair from her face and sips from her half finished drink. "I love milkshakes, there was a diner in my hometown that made the best shakes on the face of the Earth, I swear."

"Oh really?" Honestly, I am surprised. You'd think that in a friendship forged over many years I would know all the little details like these. "You never told me that before."

Apparently I'm a comedian because JJ is covering a snort of laughter by inhaling her milkshake. Actually, scratch that, _poorly_ covering a snort of laughter by inhaling her milkshake.

"Well what are a few secrets between friends?"

Cocking an eyebrow, mainly because I can't help it, I attempt staring down the blonde media liaison with a look that has taken down even more dangerous, fearful, and intimidating people. Unfortunately for me, JJ is one of my best friends in the entire world and knows better than to falter at only a pointed expression, no matter how fierce it may be. It is one of the things that I admire in my friend but at the moment one of the things that I despise. I wish that she were easier to scare off but it seems that crime scenes and unrelenting paparazzi have made her thick skinned.

"Okay, Jayje," I've had enough of well whatever this is! Everything from her barely repressed smirk to the way she languidly sips on her strawberry vanilla shake. "I'm going to be frank with you; what the hell is wrong with you this morning? You're in that mood where you know something I don't know so why don't you just put me out of my misery and spit it out already? Trust me, I'm big girl, I can handle it."

One thick crinkle-cut French fry drags through a thin strip of ketchup and JJ pops it in her mouth, grinning like a kid in a candy shop.

"I'll tell you what you wanna know if you tell me what I wanna know first."

Well isn't this so very second grade?

* * *

Emily is giving me a look that blatantly reads "I am dealing with a six year old" and then her voice mimics it.

"JJ," she drawls in that oh-so slow tone of voice that she has down to an art. "You're no longer five years old, this isn't how you go about obtaining whatever gossip you're looking for."

But it is not gossip that I'm looking for, instead it is legitimate fact and I just want to hear my good friend Emily say it out loud is all.

"Em," I lean forward, copying her physically as well as verbally. "If I were five years old I would have broken out in the song "In a Tree" by now."

A momentary flash of _what the fuck_ passes over Emily's expression and I can't help but feel both amused and proud of myself as I lean back in my seat and consume more of the perfection that is my milkshake that I then follow by munching on a vinegar soaked French fry. _Delicious._ It is surprisingly entertaining screwing with Emily Prentiss' mind and something that I _must _take up as a hobby sometime soon. Then again, that _would _force me to act as if whatever is going on between her and Hotch is just that: between her and Hotch. But who knows? Maybe it will be even better for her to know that I know. Actually, now that I think about it some more, I can see about a dozen and a half glorious inside jokes and moments that will come of only Emily, Hotch, and I being aware of their relationship. Like when they hold each other's look for too long on the jet or when they take the seat beside one another during a briefing. If Emily ever comes in with messy hair and Hotch with his shirt inside out or if the team decides to go to the bar and Hotch and Emily head home around the same time. Or I could continue to torture her by playing dumb.

Oh the possibilities.

"In a tree?" She asks in that _Emily _voice of hers, oh everyone knows that one, where it isn't _quite_ annoyed yet but is certainly getting there. Like when she doesn't like being "Emily'd", yeah that voice.

"Oh you know," I wave a French fry in the air like I am some sort of conductor for an imaginary orchestra and end up spraying ketchup on the table. "Hotch and Prentiss sittin' in a tree k-i-s-"

"I know what song, JJ!" Emily snaps although it is not angry, more embarrassed and flustered than "angry" really. I act like I'm not smiling on the inside and stick the fry in my mouth, sans ketchup. "And why Hotch?"

_Oh, dear sweet Emily. I am not as naive as you like to think._ I think, grinning wickedly on the inside, that is until I recall just why I am not so naive, then the humoured me is kind of grossed out by the horny Hotch and Emily. _Ewww._

"Lunch was a diversion." I'm whispering across the table as if this is some big conspiracy theory or confidential FBI case. I find it adds to the fun.

"For what?"

_More like **to** what._

"To what?"

Oops, must have let that one slip out.

"To save you from Hotch's tongue down your throat."

Astonished, Emily snaps my name again, effectively freaking me out by sounding much to much like a mother for me to feel at all comfortable.

"Though by the looks of you I don't think that you needed much saving."

My arm hurts for a half a second and it takes me a moment to realize that it's because Emily just backhanded me. _Ouch._

"Shut up," she states fiercely as she ducks her head acting as if the other patrons of the establishment are _that_ interested in our conversation. "I haven't a clue to what you are referring."

Emily sounds so delightfully diplomatic that I cannot stop the short burst of laughter that leaps out of my throat unexpectedly and now the whole Deli has heard, I'm certain of it. So is Emily, apparently, who I have never seen this red before in our entire friendship.

"Come on," I goad with a friendly tone. "You can _so _totally tell me. I'm like your BFF, right?"

From behind her bangs Emily doesn't look too amused which is a shame since I thought my "Valley Girl" impression was pretty awesome sounding._ Whatever._

_

* * *

_

"There is nothing to tell."

I press because it's the truth: there is nothing I want or need to tell JJ about Aaron and I. Hopefully she'll get the message because as much as I love Jayje, which is a whole wallop of a lot, I made a deal with Aaron that we would tell the team on our terms and "our" had been the operative word. It has been about twenty one weeks since we first went out and nineteen since he asked me if I'd like to make a regular thing out of coffees, dinner, and actual romantic dates. At first we had shared concerns about how dating would effect our work relationship as well as our friendship but those were overcome when we decided that a real test of our friendship would be if we took the opportunity to be "together" and could still make our friendship work, whether or not dating worked out. Another conflict was Aaron getting over Haley and relearning how to be the best father he could be for his son, which Aaron had worried would take a toll on developing their relationship if he was dedicating himself to Jack. But I love children, especially Jack Hotchner, so I offered my help whenever Aaron needed it and backed off when I knew Aaron needed it to be just him and his son. Naturally, because we work together, there was the every growing disease of fretting over what the higher ups would think of our maturing intimacy. Sure, they were_ technically _allowed to date but they couldn't get married and couldn't be partnered up on cases if they decided to remain members of the same team and their would be constant scrutiny on their jobs, making it nearly impossible for them to achieve a higher rank than what they were at currently. Although Strauss had pretty much assured that for me and Aaron so it wasn't _that_ bad. The worst problem, however, had been the agonizing decision to keep it a secret from our closest friend, something that often exhausted us mentally and left us with a vague feeling of guilt.

Right now, however, I'm beginning to wish that JJ didn't have an inkling to the secret that Hotch and I have been keeping since I no longer feel guilty for not telling her, just miffed that she's seems to have figured it out.

"Em, my eyes are still burning," JJ states very_ don't bullshit me, please_ but also kind of light-hearted. "The least you can do is not lie about making out with Hotch in the middle of a BAU corridor in the middle of the day."

_Damn it, Aaron! You just had to prolong a perfectly good make-out session didn't you?_

"Now," she takes a long drag from her straw, sucking up what little liquid actually remains and smiles. "Details?"

Despite how many germs are likely coating the table of the booth we're currently occupying, I drop my head on to and groan; where is Hotch when you need him?

* * *

**Author's Note:** That whole lunch seemed a little too drawn out to me, which kind of bothers me (:/). Oh! But I am already working the next update so you guys can expect it to be posted soon :D.

Hugs & Kisses, CSIAly


End file.
